


Broken

by krysalys



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG1
Genre: BAMF John Sheppard, BAMF Ronon Dex, BAMF Teyla Emmagan, F/M, Graphic, Graphic depiction of sexual assault on a man, Hurt Rodney McKay, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rodney McKay Needs A Hug, Rodney McKay Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysalys/pseuds/krysalys
Summary: Dr. Rodney McKay has been desired for his brains and his Ancient gene before, but never, ever, like this.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If the warnings weren't enough, this story graphically describes physical and sexual assault of a man, as well as aftercare and recovery.
> 
> Please, take care of yourself.
> 
> Why did I write this? Because rape of any person is a triggering thing for me, and I'm working on making it less so. Also, I need to challenge myself as a writer; writing difficult subjects (and hopefully writing them well) is one way for me to do so.
> 
> Concrit most certainly welcomed. Flames and nastiness need not apply.

~oOo~

He struggled towards consciousness, clawing his way desperately upwards… knowing there was trouble, some part of him urgently chanting _‘wrongwrongwrong’_.

Pain blossomed: in his arms, legs, gut, and worst of all in his head. Gargantuan canons were firing one right after another inside his fragile skull, and nausea roiled greasily in his stomach.

 _‘Where… the hell?’_ He tried to move, but for some reason his limbs weren’t cooperating.

Maybe opening his eyes would help him figure out the problem.

What would normally have been called soft light shot icy daggers of pain through his eyes directly into his brain, and his stomach surged in response.

 _‘Powerbars might be the tastiest things since Ho-Ho’s, but they’re never as good the second time around,’_ was the strange impersonal thought at the back of his mind as the remnants of what felt like ten meals sprayed the left side of his body.

His brain felt disconnected as his stomach continued to heave, completely emptying its and his upper intestines’ contents all over himself and whatever he was lying on: _‘MRE’s, on the other hand, already looked like vomit when you ate them’_ ; but then again, he was never the kind of person who needed his food to look pretty. If it was nutritious, filled him up quickly, and didn’t contain citrus he was fine.

Problem was, he had absolutely no idea what citrus, Powerbars, Ho-Ho’s and these MRE things were.

The sound of a door creaking open on obviously ungreased hinges roused him from his half-conscious musing.

“Oh, that is just…” a feminine voice called out before making a disgusted noise. “Baran, make him presentable for me!” And with a loud swishing noise, the woman stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

He flinched as the obviously heavy door’s loud boom assaulted his pounding head.

“Maybe if the guards hadn’t beaten him within a hair’s breadth of his life, your new toy wouldn’t be in this state,” a light baritone voice grumbled from somewhere off to his right.

“Mmph,” he managed a grunt.

“Ah, you are awake. And I am sure in a lot of discomfort as well.”

 _‘Well, duh,’_ he thought waspishly. His mouth felt like it’d been washed out with horseshit and alcohol.

“You have a fairly severe head wound, Doctor. I have put out the lamp, so if you could try to open your eyes?”

He really, really didn’t want to throw up again, but he could tell that the room was darker from the sudden lack of illumination through his eyelids. He dared to crack them open again.

“Hunh.” Much better. Although his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on much of anything in the room’s dimness.

He blinked a few times, just as a head full of black wavy hair swam into his field of vision. “Wh-wh’re y-you?”

“You do not remember me, Doctor McKay?”

He frowned. Right now he wasn’t sure who he was, although the whole doctor thing sounded promising.

“As I have just said, you sustained a severe head wound,” the young man smiled soothingly. “It is understandable that you are confused. My name is Baran. You and your friends came to our world looking for trading partners.”

“Hunh.” He really wanted to say more, but the effort of talking only seemed to spike the agony in his brain.

“Here, let me clean you up,” Baran spoke softly, and raised a wet washcloth into his field of vision. He blinked as he realized with rapidly growing anxiety that he was completely naked under the blanket.

Baran looked up from his ministrations as McKay began to hyperventilate. “Doctor McKay? It is all right; your clothes were ruined, and our healer needed to make sure you weren’t damaged too badly.” The young man gently stroked his right forearm, and that helped calm him a little.

He tried to raise a hand to his aching head, only to realize that he couldn’t move it. “W-wha?”

Baran lowered his eyes briefly. “I am sorry about the restraints, Doctor. It was Caltha’s wish that you be bound to the bed for the remainder of your stay.”

 _Stay?_ What the fuck was going on here?! He couldn’t remember anything from before he’d woken up, and the giant blank in his mind only served to deepen his sense of panic.

With a final, gentle swipe, the young man finished cleaning his torso and dropped the washcloth into a bowl off to the side. “I shall fetch the healer to look at you again. I will be but a moment.” He swiftly strode to the door and pulled it open, careful that it didn’t squeal too much. He poked his head out and murmured to someone on the other side before leaving the door open and returning to the bed. “He will be here momentarily.”

“Wh… why’m’h're?” he managed to mumble around a completely dry throat.

Baran’s eyebrows bunched together as he carefully and expertly tugged the soiled sheets out from under and around McKay. “Caltha wished for you to stay and be our guest, Doctor. You refused, and she is not accustomed to being denied what she wants.” He sympathetically made the bed with clean sheets, making sure to jar McKay as little as possible. 

The statement sparked a few images, but he had no idea what their context was. The increasingly powerful throbbing in his head was drowning out the effort of remembering anything at the moment.

For some reason, the word ‘migraine’ popped into his thoughts.

The door creaked, warning the two men that someone else was entering the room. Baran turned to greet an older, whip-thin man with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard and silver hair pulled back into a ponytail. Dark brown eyes raked assessingly over McKay as the healer moved to his left side.

“I am Healer Florin,” the man rumbled. “I was beginning to worry. You have been mostly unconscious for over two days.” He began gently pushing and prodding what McKay could now see were some nasty looking bruises on his chest and arms.

He hissed at the sudden spike of pain coming from an almost black spot on his lower left rib cage, and the healer nodded. “Possible broken ribs there, son,” he murmured, and continued his exam.

Thin fingers ran gently through his hair, encountering a modest lump covered in a blood-soaked bandage. “I am particularly concerned about this,” the man continued softly. “You had been struck quite hard there, numerous times. I would feel much better if your Healer were to take over your care…”

“Florin,” Baran snapped in warning, and the Healer bowed his head briefly.

“M’ hhhheal’r?” he whispered.

“He doesn’t remember much, of anything,” Baran explained at the elder man’s questioning look. “Every time he has awoken since last night, he cannot recall anything that has happened. Though this is the first time he’s been able to talk.”

Florin frowned. “Do you remember who you are?” he questioned.

“D-D’ct’r… M’Kay?”

“You are unsure.” Florin’s concerned eyes flicked between McKay and Baran. “You did not remember that on your own.”

“N-no.”

“Do you remember where you are from?”

He could only blink back in confusion, and the Healer shot a dark look at Baran.

“Are you able to see clearly?” he continued. “Any sickness to your stomach?”

“N-no, an’ y-yes.”

“I have tried to feed him some of those rations he carried, yet the doctor has lost control of his stomach five times so far,” Baran explained further. “But only once since he has awakened this afternoon.”

The Healer’s frown deepened. “I must insist that Doctor McKay be returned to his people, Baran. His injuries are beyond my skills, and they are most likely life-threatening.”

But Baran shook his head. “You know Caltha will not allow it until she gets what she wants.”

“W-wan's?” He really didn’t like the way this was all sounding. Not one bit.

Florin patted his left hand. “You must rest, son. But first, I have something to help ease your pain and stomach sickness.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “P-Pl’se.”

The Healer nodded and turned away for a moment to retrieve a small flask. He poured a murky fluid into a little cup and gently raised McKay’s head so he could drink it.

For some reason he thought the medicine would taste foul, but instead it reminded him of something called honey and mint with only a vague hint of medicinal nastiness. But still… not bad…

Florin lowered McKay’s throbbing head gently back onto the feather pillow. 

The pain was slowly floating away, which brought another strange and yet familiar image to his thoughts.

The Healer gathered his things together and Baran walked him to the door. They were speaking in low tones so as not to disturb him, and even though he thought that maybe they were saying something important, he found he really didn’t care at the moment. He was too busy trying to figure out what significance ninety-nine red luftballoons were in his limited memory.

~oOo~

He woke to the very pleasant sensation of something stroking his dick. That something was warm and wet, and he could also feel gentle pressure on his right thigh, as well as fingers caressing his left leg from the calf up to right under his balls.

A smile spread across his face as his dick roused under the slow, slick attention of what he now realized was a tongue caressing the sensitive skin under the tip. 

Oh yes, this was definitely the best way to wake up. Ever.

He hummed his pleasure.

“Oh!”

But that? That… the exclamation coming from someone quite obviously _not a woman_ was a definite shock to his system. He pried sleep-gummed eyes open, and his still-swimming vision fixed on…

The black, wavy hair of Baran. The young man was curled around the side and bottom of the bed around his feet, and it was the boy’s head that was resting on his thigh. Baran’s blue eyes were open wide in surprise, heavily tinted with guilt.

The young man was also completely naked.

Then again, so was he. Still.

The silence stretched as he desperately tried to think of what he should do. He took stock of his surroundings: wrists still shackled to the bed at his sides, and his ankles had a _lovely_ set of matching metal cuffs as well.

The blanket he’d been covered with yesterday was all bunched up at the bottom of the bed around his feet. There was a fire roaring off to his left, keeping the room so warm that he was comfortable without the sheet covering him. Well, not comfortable seeing as how he was completely _naked_ and _exposed_ , and oh yeah… _shackled_ to the wide bed.

His pulse jumped. This wasn’t good… not good at all. He felt exposed… vulnerable… and for some reason that was completely unacceptable.

It was obvious that Baran had been quite… happy… with what he’d just been interrupted in doing. One hand was still loosely fisted around his own straining erection, and the other hand continued to caress McKay’s calf.

“Doctor McKay?” Baran finally broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

“Uhm, y-yes?” He really had no idea how he was supposed to react to this. Hyperventilating seemed like a good plan to start out with.

His head and gut disagreed, though. Vehemently.

“You are awake.”

He frowned. “Y’r p-p'wrs of… o-obs’rv’t’n are… as-stound’n,” he croaked. His throat tickled with dryness, and he tried to stifle a small cough. And failed, which sent white-hot spikes of agony through his head and chest.

Thankfully, the pain was much less than the last time he’d woken up, and he guessed it was thanks to whatever medicine he’d been given. He could still feel the muzziness around the edges of his mind, cushioning his thoughts.

“Let me get you some water,” Baran spoke up, and uncurled his small, lean frame from the bottom of the bed.

His small, lean, very naked frame.

“C-c'ld y-y’pl's…” He looked longingly at the covers as the younger man stepped over to a simple nightstand holding a stoneware pitcher and cup. When Baran poured water, he forgot all about his nakedness as his tongue practically stuck to the roof of his mouth. He was so thirsty, he couldn’t even salivate.

After embarrassingly long moments where the young man had to lift his head and hold the cup in order for McKay to drink, he gratefully sank back into the feather pillows. That slight movement had brought the formerly quiescent pain in his head and body roaring back to the fore.

“P-pl'se tell me th’… h-hee-eal’r g-g-guy’s… c-comin’ s-s-sssoo'… wi’-with m-more med’cin'.” He couldn’t help the pathetic whimper in his voice, and wondered if he’d ever been this injured before. The small amount of cool water that he’d drunk now churned in his stomach, and he didn’t think he could bear another round of vomiting. Or more accurately, he didn’t think his head could bear much more before exploding.

Baran rested a gentle hand on his right shoulder. “I shall fetch him, now that you are awake.” He padded over to a chair beside the door and unhurriedly dressed, which afforded McKay the distraction of watching the young man’s smooth and well-rounded ass before it was covered by cloth.

Again, in the back of his mind, there was something telling him he should be royally freaking out right now, but he wasn’t sure what to put at the top of the list. Although he was pretty freaking certain that being shackled to a bed, naked, and at the mercy of complete strangers was well outside of his comfort zone.

He wondered if he and this Baran had been intimate before, and decided that it didn’t matter. Bondage and obviously having the shit beaten out of him was an absolute and definite turnoff.

Baran poked his head through the door and murmured to the guards on the other side before returning to the foot of the bed. “Healer Florin will arrive soon, Doctor.” He took in the various still-flushed parts of McKay’s anatomy with widened eyes and a growing smile.

“G-Goo’. W-Well, goo’,” he stammered under the intense scrutiny. “Um, B-Bar’n… ‘bou’ e-‘rlier…”

Baran smiled, showing fairly even teeth. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Um, j-jus’ want’d t-t-t’say… uh…”

The young man cocked his head to one side, his smile growing.

He felt his face flushing even more. “W-w-wasn’… er… ‘pset ‘bou' h-how… w-wok’up.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Baran continued to grin, and really, that was beginning to irritate him. If the kid started laughing, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Well, nothing really, since he was shackled to the bed and all. Not to mention the bashed head, ribs, and other assorted injuries. Suddenly a wave of impotent fury washed over him.

“I-i’s jus’ t-t-tha’… um… w-well,” he mentally smacked himself. “Y-you’re a… a g-guy. A-an’… i’s no' s-some thin’ I’ ‘s-spec' people… d-doin’ wi’ their c-cap’ves a-an’ all.”

Baran’s amusement faded, and his eyes dropped to fix on McKay’s bare feet. “I would assume not, Doctor. But I am under strict orders to ensure that you are capable of performing your duty.”

“M-my… d-du... ty.” Why did that make him nervous? Really nervous?

“To Caltha.”

He blinked. “Oh.” And then realization hit him. _“Oh.”_

Baran’s gaze never wavered from his study of McKay’s toes, yet his left hand crept out to gingerly stroke the top of a pale foot. Which of course sent electric tingles up his leg.

None of this made sense. If only his head would stop screaming…

“If you like, I could…” Baran motioned with his free hand towards McKay’s groin.

“Um, r-r'lly, y-you don’ h-hav’to,” he stammered again.

The stroking continued up to his calf, with every soft touch sending shivers through his body. His ribs screamed at him, and the growing pressure in his gut made it damned difficult for him to fully enjoy the attention.

“’I’s j-jus’ tha’… _ow_ ,” he winced as his shivers continued to increase. It wasn’t just from the tender caresses; he could tell something else was wrong. Very wrong. “B-Bar’n…”

The door suddenly burst open, and a young woman barged huffily into the room. “Baran! Is he…” Her strident voice trailed off as she took in the sight before her with widening eyes.

McKay blinked in an effort to clear his swimming vision. In front of him was a woman who he supposed could be described as a goddess. Shimmering golden hair flowed over a lithe, curvaceous body to just below well-rounded hips. And he couldn’t be sure, but maybe her eyes were blue as well. Full lips were spreading into an almost predatory grin as the young woman took in the sight of the battered and totally naked man laid out in front of her.

That certainly didn’t help his nerves. Nor his fading erection.

The perfect vision of beauty whipped around to address Baran. “I see you have been taking your obligations seriously for once, brother,” she commented in a snide tone, and a blush spread across the young man’s face. “As a reward I shall allow you to stay and watch. Maybe even participate, if he performs his duty well.” She tilted her head arrogantly towards McKay before swirling around to face her prisoner again. “You shall perform to my expectations, won’t you Doctor?” she questioned him with artificial sweetness.

He had a feeling he really didn’t like this woman. ‘Bitch’ seemed to be an appropriately mild word to describe her, but he wasn’t really feeling up to conversation or thinking all that much at the moment. As a matter of fact, that water was starting to boil in his stomach…

“Well? Answer me!” She swept up to the foot of the bed and smacked his calf with an open palm.

He grit his teeth together and glared back. Oh, this was not going to turn out well. His gaze flicked over to Baran, and silently pleaded for him to get that healer guy in there. Flower? Forbes? What was his name again?

“Caltha,” Baran broke in on his sister’s increasingly strident demands as he stepped up to McKay’s right side. “Doctor McKay has been very ill.”

“Yes? So?” She blinked at the interruption.

“He is gravely injured, and hasn’t been able to keep any food or water in his stomach for over two days now,” he continued quietly, and quickly grabbed a small bowl as McKay’s stomach finally won the battle of wills.

“That is not my problem!” Caltha practically screeched over his retching. “So long as he is able to give me his seed, I care not about his injuries!”

“He cannot give you his seed in this condition, and he is only getting worse,” Baran’s voice had a sliver of anger running unmistakably through it. He gently turned McKay’s head to the side and held the bowl there until nothing else was coming out of his mouth. 

But he continued to dry-heave, and he could feel the shaking continue to worsen. “Ba… Ba… ‘r’n…” he grit out between spasms, his body writhing against the restraints.

He could taste something metallic in his mouth, and his battered ribs and gut were a supernova of combined agony. Tears slipped past his clenched eyelids, and a distanced part of his mind wondered if he were a praying man. At this point he’d beg just about anyone to end his suffering.

“I was informed that Doctor McKay resisted my guards, therefore I bear no responsibility for his injuries. Had he simply come along as they requested, then he wouldn’t be in this condition. Besides, I was told that he could still perform his duty to me, and I _will_ get what I came here for, Baran, with or without your help,” Caltha snarled. “If you refuse your responsibility to your future Queen, then I shall have you thrown in the dungeons. Where your last... 'lover' is currently residing, I recall.”

“What?” McKay heard a note of panicked disbelief in the other man’s voice, and the small hope he’d been harboring over Baran helping him out of this mess withered.

“Fulfill your duty, little brother, and I will consider releasing your…toy,” she spat in disgust. “I might even allow you both to live, although I don’t know how happy he will be to see you after what he has been… experiencing down there.”

Silence reigned for long tense moments, until Baran growled, “I shall obey, Princess.”

“Good.” The triumph over her victory oozed through that one word, and made him wish he could vomit some more. If he had anything left in his stomach, he would’ve spewed it all over this nasty bitch and disgusted her enough to make her leave. Then he’d be able to pass out comfortable in the knowledge that she’d leave him alone for awhile longer.

If only…

He kept his eyes squeezed shut, for he had absolutely no desire to see what was happening. He heard the rustle of clothes on his right as Baran bent down to whisper in his ear. “I am sorry, Doctor. This is not my wish. If there were any other way…”

“Baran! Prepare him for me!” Caltha ordered.

A small vial was held to his lips as the young man murmured, “Drink this. It will help.” 

He swallowed, and grimaced, doubting that even someone as talented as Baran was with his mouth could get him hard right now.

Then again…

More clothes rustled as he felt artificial warmth infuse his limbs. It started in his stomach and rapidly spread through his body. It didn’t seem to matter that his entire torso was shooting white-hot bolts of anguish to his brain; the excruciating pain was almost literally shoved to the side of his consciousness, and his traitorous dick stirred at the memory of Baran’s tongue repeatedly gliding around and over the tip. His stomach continued to churn, though, and his pulse began thundering like a herd of stampeding animals throughout his body. The shakes were only worsening, and he absently wondered if he was going to die.

He couldn’t find it within himself to care. 

“I shall make this as pleasurable and quick for you as possible, Doctor,” Baran’s voice drifted up from around his hips.

Lithe fingers traced the crease between his thighs and groin, smoothing the hair. Warm breath ghosted over his dick, making it twitch in the now slightly cooler air of the room.

Then warm lips kissed the underside of the shaft down to the base, where Baran nuzzled the soft, wrinkled skin right above his balls. A tongue darted out, tracing the line between the two sacs before the young man gently sucked one into his mouth. He couldn’t help the low groan of pleasure wrung from him at the sensation of having each testicle rolled around in Baran’s mouth before being released with a soft slurp. The tongue made a grand reappearance, and traced up the vein on the underside of his slowly swelling dick before circling the underside of the head and making its way down the other side.

Meanwhile, one of Baran’s hands had cupped McKay’s balls, and was now gently massaging them in time with each flick of his tongue.

A chair loudly creaked off to the left, and he jerked, hissing as the mounting pressure in his gut flared.

“Remain still and do not startle him, sister, or you won’t get what you so desperately desire,” Baran snapped. His fingers continued to stroke McKay’s quivering body, which helped him ease in a stuttered breath and try to relax.

“You forget your place, little brother,” Caltha retorted hotly. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner you and your toy may leave and never again stain these halls with your filth.”

“No’… c-c’n… du… c’ve… t-t’… s-sex… h-her’,” he grit out as he tenaciously held onto consciousness by a thread. His hands scrabbled and gripped at the sheet underneath him in a white-knuckled grip.

“I am sorry, Doctor,” Baran murmured, pressing a gentle kiss beside his belly button. He trailed his lips and tongue down the line of hair back to McKay’s groin, and rubbed his cheek briefly against the half-hard flesh beginning to jut out. “Just concentrate on feeling,” he breathed, and then wrapped his lips fully around McKay’s length.

“ _Uh!_ ” He couldn’t help the small jerk of his hips into that moist warmth. Damn that felt wonderful. But how was it possible?

Ever-so-agonizingly slowly, the young man’s mouth sucked now rapidly hardening flesh deeper until his nose was gently pressed once again to McKay’s groin. Baran sucked lightly for a few moments as his fingers moved from rolling McKay’s balls to the delicate space behind them, and pressed.

“Ah!” Everything else faded away under the extreme sensations assaulting his mind: the pleasure coiling in his groin from the heavenly fellatio, the sharp pounding in his skull, and the formerly detached pain that suddenly speared through his gut from whatever had been broken in the struggle with Caltha’s guards. It all became too much, and his vision and hearing whited out under the strain. 

His body writhed uncontrollably on the bed as Baran continued to suck and lick him in combination with his agile fingers now rubbing the sensitive area behind his balls.

Words washed over him as if he was underwater, but at this point he didn’t care what was happening. Something had to give soon, and he just couldn’t muster the energy to care about anything other than…

Baran’s mouth pulled off with a light ‘pop’ right before a weight settled on his hips, and he reflexively bucked into it. All of his sensory perception was focused on his throbbing dick as it was buried in something else warm, wet and tight. He cried out without hearing, all his focus on the warring sensations in his shuddering body.

Whoever was sitting on him began rocking frantically, while he could feel wet fingers against his asshole, pushing… oh-so-gently… until one was inside him.

Searching… it was searching… for what?

The finger turned and crooked, and suns exploded behind his eyelids. His hips eagerly thrust against the weight pressing on them, orgasm rushing up with blazing darkness swarming all around it…

His whole body arched up off the bed as the explosive climax slammed into him, and slender legs wrapped around his waist as he pulsed deeply within the flesh he was buried in. 

But within moments the weight on his hips disappeared with a couple of terrible yanks. He howled at the loss, and yet he felt… relief? But what…

The bubble of silence he was cocooned in ruptured, and his ears were assaulted with shouts, screams, and the sounds of many people rushing around in the room. His body violently quaked as the pleasure he’d been feeling was immediately crushed under the weight of his injuries. He tried to scream as the agony ripped through him, but he couldn’t tell if any noise came out over the cacophony around him.

His eyes remained squeezed shut, until he heard a strange and at the same time familiar voice call out.

“Rodney? Rodney, can you hear me, lad?”

He couldn’t speak, the pain having stripped his voice from him. All he could do was thrash uncontrollably in his bonds, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Colonel, help me get these things off him!”

The bulk of the shouting had been pushed out into the hall, making it easier for him to hear someone moving up to his right side.

“Jesus, Rodney, what the hell’ve they been doing to you?”

“Colonel. Colonel, I need to get these bloody things off him,” the other man spoke urgently. Hands fumbled a little before the shackles fell away from his bloodied wrists and ankles, and a blanket was pulled up to his waist.

“Christ, Carson,” the voice of the man on his right shook.

“Rodney. Rodney, can you answer me?”

All he could do was whine through his nose in response. He craved to curl up into a ball, but the renewed agony in his torso flared, and gentle hands kept him flat on his back as he whimpered.

“Please, I can help,” came a quiet voice from the doorway.

“Hey, you,” came the voice from his right. “You’re that healer guy. Florin, right?”

“Yes, Colonel. I am sorry I couldn’t get you to Doctor McKay earlier. I have treated him to the best of my abilities, but…”

“Yes, yes, now, what did you do?” the accented voice on his left interrupted.

“He was beaten rather severely by Caltha’s guards when he wouldn’t come quietly.”

The Colonel snorted weakly. “Yeah, that’s McKay for you. Quiet’s never been part of his vocabulary.”

“Colonel,” the other one snapped. “Please continue, Florin.” Once again he felt gentle fingers mapping out the various bruises on his shivering body, and keened his distress like a dying animal.

“Easy son, I’ll make you right as rain soon enough,” the accented voice soothed.

He heard pottery clinking together, and a quiet curse. “What’s this?”

“I… I do not know,” the deep voice of the Healer sounded shocked. Footsteps moved to the night table by the head of the bed, and silence reigned in the room while Carson continued to carefully assess the full extent of McKay’s injuries.

“I did not give this to him,” Florin declared in an angry tone. “Caltha must have done so to ensure his… compliance.”

He flinched and whimpered at the mention of the woman’s name. His pulse was pounding so hard, he could practically feel every single blood cell slamming through his body at light speed. He was sure he'd be torn apart from the tidal stress any second now. And his traitorous dick was rock hard again… 

“I’ll _kill_ that fucking bitch,” Colonel grit out murderously. The man still had one hand on his shoulder, and unconsciously gripped a little harder when he began to writhe more.

“No, Colonel,” Carson interrupted curtly as he bustled about gathering items he needed. “Right now we need to concentrate on getting Rodney the hell out of here. Florin, what else do I need to know?”

“He was struck repeatedly on the head, and has been confused every time he has awoken. He didn’t remember anything before his time in this room, nor his own name when he woke up a few hours ago.”

“Damn it. Rodney, in case you can’t remember right now, I’m Carson Beckett, your doctor. On your other side is Colonel John Sheppard, your teammate.”

“And friend,” Colonel added grimly.

“We’ve been looking all over for you almost three days now. You had us awfully worried when you disappeared. What else?” The doctor’s touch remained light, but still he screamed when fingers drifted over his abused left side.

Hands firmly gripped his shoulders and held him down to the bed, and he sobbed uncontrollably as he heard a choked, “Easy buddy. Easy.” 

“That is the only other major injury I could find,” Florin spoke up in a strained voice. “I believe he has broken ribs there.”

One of Carson’s hands softly rested on his hip as the doctor grimly replied. “They’re not just broken, looks like he’s got internal bleeding there now. We need to get him back immediately, Colonel.”

“Ronon, where’s that stretcher?!” the man on his right shouted, and he keened again at the spikes of pain that ripped into his head.

“Sorry, I know you’re hurting like a bitch, but we gotta hustle here,” Colonel squeezed his shoulder in apology. “The natives aren’t exactly thrilled we interrupted their little McKay love fest.”

“What medicines did you give him?” Carson was asking Florin.

“Only this, to settle his stomach and dull the pain. He hasn’t been able to keep down any food or water, and I have been limited in how often I could attend to him,” the Healer sounded apologetic and furious at the same time.

“Bloody fecking hell. I need to get him on an IV, now,” Carson bit out in fury as his accent thickened. “His blood sugar must be all to shite.”

He heard furious rustling as his stomach gurgled at him again. He opened his mouth to warn the others, but all that came out was a strangled moan as his stomach began its next escape attempt.

“Shit!” Hands turned his head to the side so he wouldn’t aspirate, but all that came up this time was coffee ground-brown blood, which only served to gag him even more. His stomach clenched and clenched repeatedly, until the agony it was causing finally overloaded his senses.

He heard Carson and Colonel shouting to someone named Lorne just as there was a prick on the back of his hand… and the darkness finally sucked him under.


	2. Chapter 2

Awareness was slow in coming. He kind of liked where he was, all floating and peaceful. No people screaming, nothing touching him, just him lying on this fluffy cloud and feeling absolutely nothing.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t all that thrilled. It was boring.

Something impinged on the quiet. Something repetitive. Something that was beeping, slowly and surely.

Annoying, really.

He tried to hear more, and was rewarded with the low murmur of voices.

Hm. Maybe talking would be in order? He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. Okay, maybe if he tried moving his hand?

Nope, no luck there.

This was maddening. Okay, baby steps, then. Listen to the voices, and maybe they’d give him an idea on what the hell was going on.

“… ow much longer?”

“I don’t know, Colonel. We’re hoping he’ll start coming around within the next day or so. He’s been through an awful lot. We’re lucky we got to him when we did.”

“And you’re sure you got all the damage, Carson?”

“Aye, it’s just a matter of keeping him quiet and calm once he’s woken up,” came the sober response.

“What about his head?” someone growled from somewhere around his feet. He couldn’t remember why, but that made him nervous.

“Well, you saw the shunt we had to install. That was to drain the excess fluid putting pressure on his brain, which was already inflamed from the multiple blows he’d taken. But thankfully, the swelling has gone down quite nicely, and we’ll be able to take the shunt and the monitor out soon if he continues responding well to the medication.”

“Yeah, but what about him?” the same voice almost growled. “Is he gonna remember us?”

“Ronon.” The other voice, the one called Colonel, sounded a warning.

The accented voice – Carson- sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll have a better idea on whether there’s been any permanent damage after he’s regained consciousness. Right now all we can do is wait.”

“Waiting sucks,” Ronon did growl this time, and he felt a stab of fear run through him at the menacing tone.

Something beeped in agitated response, silencing the voices. HeRodney felt a faint breeze on his right hand before warm fingers gently wrapped around a splinted bandage on his wrist. “Rodney, can you hear me?”

Even though the pressure was light, it still sparked something in him, screaming ‘badbadbad _NOverybad_!’ and he began to struggle against the restraints he could still feel pinching his extremities.

“Hey, McKay, it’s all right. You’re safe, you’re on Atlantis. You’re safe, buddy!” another familiar voice urged him to calm down, but he was totally confused. Atlantis? Wasn’t he just on that planet? The one with…

Caltha.

The name triggered a memory that slammed into the fore with sickening clarity, and he convulsed on the bed in full-blown panic.

“Whoa! Rodney, settle down! You’re safe, safe!” Colonel shouted above the sudden din as bodies dashed about, trying to keep him from undoing all the hard work that’d gone into putting him back together again.

Hands were touching him everywhere, clamping down near wrists and ankles, and it pulled an unearthly scream of terror from his throat. He fought harder to free himself. He had to get away!

“Wait! Wait, back off! Just back the fuck off!” Colonel bellowed as he started yanking people back from the bed. 

He heard all sorts of scuffles around him before the hands let go, until only one pair remained firmly on his bucking shoulders.

“Rodney. Rodney, listen to me. Just calm down and listen to my voice, okay? Rodney, you’re safe. You’re in Atlantis. You’re safe. I got you outta there, you’re in the Infirmary, Beckett’s here to help, but you gotta calm down. You’re safe, in an infirmary bed. No cuffs, no chains, you’re _safe_ , and no one’s gonna touch you unless you say it’s okay, all right?” Colonel kept his voice soothing and soft, which eventually broke through the panic seizing his throat and heart in a vice-like grip.

He tried to gulp air, but his chest was screaming at him, and he wasn’t getting enough. He gasped as his eyes shot open, scared now that he was suffocating.

“Rodney, you’re all right,” Carson’s voice came from behind Colonel. “Let me put the oxygen mask on you, and you won’t be having such a hard time breathing, okay?”

He swallowed, and managed a shaky nod as he began to relax back into the bed. He blinked gummy eyes, only to be greeted with rounded blobs of color in a muted light. He blinked again, trying to make them focus.

It mostly didn’t work. Colonel relaxed the grip on his shoulders and moved to the side so that Carson had room to place the oxygen mask over his face.

After a few minutes during which he was slowly able to bring his frantic attempts to breathe under control, Carson piped up. “Now, that’s a little better, isn’t it?” He leaned in closer, and the swimming colors coalesced into almost recognizable features.

“C… Cars’n?”

“Aye, hello there,” came the warm response. Carson’s smile lit up his face as the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Are you with us now, son?”

“ _Urgh_.”

“Right. Talking might be a bit of a bugger for you right now, since we had you on a ventilator for a few days,” Carson informed him. “But we’ll have to make a go of it here for a bit, since there are some questions I need to ask you. All right?”

He blinked, and barely nodded. 

“Do you know your name?”

He opened his mouth to answer, and was struck dumb momentarily. He wracked his memory, but was coming up blank. His unfocussed eyes cast around as he grew more agitated, but then the words practically leapt out at him, along with the fuzzy image of a young black-haired man. “D-doc’r. M-M’Kay!” he exclaimed, relieved that he came up with it.

“Good, very good!” Carson praised him. “And you know me, of course.”

He stilled. Actually, he didn’t… just the man’s name. “Thr’s’y,” he croaked.

His vision still registered mostly blobs of color moving around, but Carson was the only one close enough to look vaguely human. The head of the bed gradually rose, for which he was immensely grateful since he felt a strange pulling on his midsection. He carefully sucked on the ice chip Carson placed at his lips, and closed his eyes at the heavenly feeling of cool water soothing his battered throat.

“There, that’s better, eh?” Carson asked as he put the cup away somewhere and readjusted the oxygen mask.

He flashed a brief crooked smile and hummed a little. “Mmm.”

“So, now I need to ask you a few more things, all right?”

“’K-Kay.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

“T-T… two?” He murmured after a few tense moments. For some reason he felt he should be telling them a larger number, but only the first digit came to mind. Or, was it the last one? Crap, he was so confused…

“Excellent. Know where you are?”

He felt momentarily at a loss; the humming that he’d barely noticed at the back of his mind now strengthened once he concentrated on it. Only one place made him truly feel like he was home, and it was called… 

“’L-lan-tis.” Now that he’d thought about it, where else would he be, with that soothing and constant low purr? He might not remember anything much right now, but realized his beloved city wouldn’t let him forget her so easily. 

Colonel chuckled from behind Carson. “I think you just made Rodney question _your_ mental state, Doc.”

“Good, good. Now, I need to know how you’re feeling. Any pain?”

A smile of utter relief washed across his face. “N-no.”

“You got the really good stuff, McKay,” an amused deep voice came from the foot of the bed, and his eyes widened as panic began to creep up on him again. 

Two machines now trilled a warning, and Carson softly ordered, “Ronon, I think it’s best if you didn’t stand there for now.”

The huge chocolate-colored blob moved to the side, and he could suddenly breathe clearly again.

“As a matter of fact, you should all go on and get yourselves something to eat. We could use a little peace and quiet around here without you lot cluttering up my Infirmary.” Carson shooed a handful of blobs away from the bed, until moments later it felt like there was just Carson and Colonel at the bedside.

“Th-than’ you,” he murmured, finally feeling some of the tension leaving him.

“It’s all right. I’d feel the same,” Carson replied warmly as he came back around to stand by his shoulder. “Now, how’s your vision?”

“B-B-Bl… ‘urry.”

“Hunh?” Colonel grunted.

“E-Ever’-th-thin’… b-b’urry,” he repeated. “’Cep’ you, C-Cars’. S-Sor-ta.”

He winced as his eyes were assaulted by a bright light. “Sorry, lad. Your pupils are still a bit slow on the uptake, but your sight should improve in a few days. How do you feel otherwise?”

“T-Tire’.” As a matter of fact, he could barely keep his eyes open any more.

“You’ve had a really rough time of it. You need the rest,” Carson replied gently. “I’ll be here when you next wake.”

“Me too,” Colonel piped up. “You need anything, just smack me.”

He snorted, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

  
~oOo~

  
He woke up some time later, and figured it must be nighttime by the dimness in the room. Voices murmured off to his right, and he vainly tried to blink his vision into better focus. He gave up in frustration after a few moments and wondered what it was exactly that’d roused him.

The voices moved closer, resolving into Carson’s distinctive brogue and Colonel’s laconic drawl.

“It’s been almost two weeks and he looks like shit, Carson. Still,” Colonel was saying quietly.

“They did a real number on him, Colonel,” Carson replied just as softly. “He was beaten severely, left essentially untreated for almost three days, and what medical care he did receive was pathetic at best. He’d almost bled out internally before we got to him.”

He blinked. He wondered who the poor bastard was they were talking about, before drifting away for a little while, then coming back to hear the men still talking quietly.

“What about the drugs they gave him?”

“That Healer… Florin, he’d done all right by giving the painkiller and anti-emetic. It wasn’t nearly enough, but the poor man did what he could when he was allowed access,” Carson explained. “As for the… _other_ drug the princess gave him,” he continued with rancor, “we’re damned lucky Rodney didn’t have a stroke from it. He was already dangerously unstable from his other injuries, and to top it all off he’d had a severe hypoglycemic episode.”

Colonel growled murderously at that. “Should’ve killed that fucking bitch when I had the chance.”

“You did the right thing, concentrating on getting Rodney back here, Colonel,” Carson soothed. “Even with how quickly we got home, it was still touch and go for awhile, as you well know. I can’t tell you how relieved I was that we were able to salvage Rodney’s spleen, not to mention the repairs on his stomach and left lung from those broken ribs. Things might not’ve been so bad had he not been subjected to such… _intense_ physical activity right before we arrived.”

He blinked again. From the way Carson was going on, this guy was damned lucky to be alive. He felt a little queasy thinking over the list of injuries he’d heard so far. And what was the man talking about with this ‘intense physical activity’ stuff? For some reason he was coming up with a blank as to what had happened. Were they talking about _him_? He couldn’t help but drowse again…

~+~

“How long is he gonna have to stay here, doc?” John asked softly.

“It all depends on how well he responds to treatment,” Carson returned evenly. “We’re tickled at his recovery so far, but he’s still not out of the woods yet. We need to monitor him closely. He’s got a depressed skull fracture, and although the subdural bleeding seems to have stopped and the swelling is going down, he could still have complications. We’ve got his stomach, lung and spleen all patched up, but he’d bled out into his thoracic cavity along with stomach acid and bile; he could still develop sepsis in there, in spite of all the antibiotics we’re pumping into him, and his spleen could also start bleeding again. He needs to be kept as still as possible for the next week until we’re sure the wee bugger’ll be fine. Otherwise, we might have to go in and do a splenectomy.”

“And that’s bad.”

“Aye, very bad. If Rodney loses his spleen, I won’t be able to clear him for any more off-world missions.”

~+~

“As it is, Rodney’s grounded for at least the next eight to ten weeks,” Carson was saying as he swam back to consciousness. “And that’s just in relation to his internal injuries. We still have to find out the extent of the long-term damage the head trauma’s caused.”

“Fuck, Carson,” Colonel swore breathlessly. 

He wondered at the banked fury in the man’s voice.

“Aye, it sounds very, very bad, but in actuality, Rodney’s quite lucky, Colonel. So far he’s been cognizant of his surroundings, shows no impaired major motor function, and is having relatively little difficulty with speaking, despite the aphasia. Those are excellent signs.”

“Always looking for the silver lining, huh Doc?” Colonel quipped, not really sounding amused.

“I have to,” the physician replied. “Plus you have to take into consideration… this _is_ Rodney McKay we’re talking about. You really think the man’s gonna let all this keep him from his work for long?”

He grimaced. Was there a compliment in there? Because that really didn’t sound like a compliment to him. Despite his desire to continue listening in on the others, he slipped back into a deep sleep.

~+~

“This aphasia thing,” John queried. “What’s that about?”

“The language centers in Rodney’s brain were damaged from the bleeding,” Carson explained. “At this point we don’t know the full extent, or how much of it could be permanent. We’ll have a much better idea once Rodney’s condition is more stabile. Then we can determine to what extent his communication skills have been impacted.”

“You trying to tell me this could be permanent?” John could feel some sort of panic scrabbling under the surface of his imposed calm.

Carson sighed wearily. “At this point we can’t be sure, Colonel. We’ll have to wait until the swelling’s completely diminished before assessing what kind of permanent damage we might be looking at, if at all.”

“When will we know how much he can remember?” John clenched his fists in impotent rage. If he only could’ve grabbed Caltha back on the planet…

But no. What’d been important then was getting Rodney the hell out of there. Justice… well, that was coming, whether Elizabeth liked it or not.

“Give the man a few days before we start asking questions. He needs all the rest he can get, and quite frankly, Rodney needs to be kept as calm as possible. Absolutely no stress will be tolerated: meaning, no discussion about work in any form, no discussion about anything traumatic, and no arguing about anything. Period. When I say severe head trauma, I mean that even now Rodney’s in critical condition. The slightest change in pressure in his skull could still prove deadly. You saw the seizures he had on the way back here; even with the anti-convulsives he’s on, he could still have more.”

_Oh yeah_ , John thought. He didn’t care how well negotiations were going with Caltha’s aging father… that bitch was going to _pay_.

Beyond getting shot, that is.

Carson took a deep breath, and continued when John didn’t speak. “That’s why I’m restricting visitors. Now, I know you’ll want to sit and keep him company, but I have to insist that you say or do nothing to get Rodney agitated. That’s why I’m telling you all this. I can’t stress enough how delicate his condition still is.”

“I… understand, Carson,” John replied softly as a nurse passed quietly behind them to the other side of the infirmary, where a marine who’d broken his foot in a training exercise was resting. “Scout’s honor: none of my usual wind-McKay-up antics.”

“Good,” the Scot replied with a warm smile. “Then you’re cleared to visit with him. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“But…”

“No buts. I want you to get a full seven to eight hours’ sleep before you come in here again, understood?” The steel in Carson’s voice brooked no argument.

“Really don’t think I’m gonna sleep well after all you told me, Doc.” John felt sheepish in admitting that. In truth he hadn’t slept well since Rodney’d disappeared, which apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed by his friends. Carson was the fourth person to mention how crappy John looked.

“I could give you a little something to help it along.” Carson laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the small area off the main infirmary where the pharmaceuticals were stored.

“Might be a good idea,” John agreed quietly, much to Carson’s obvious shock.

“All right, then. Now, I don’t wanna see you in here before 0800 hours, _after_ you’ve had a spot of breakfast.”

“Aye aye, doc,” John smiled wearily. “Do you get to follow your own advice, too?”

Carson chuckled. “Oh aye, I’d much rather have Doctor Chapman on my good side,” he referred to his second in command. “My shift’s almost over, and I’ll be getting a full night’s sleep as well on that cot by Rodney’s.” He nodded at the military cot in question. “After what I’d seen on ‘467, don’t think I’ll be comfortable sleeping in my own bed ‘til Rodney’s completely out of the woods.”

John’s expression fell. “Know what ya mean there, Carson.”

  
~oOo~

  
At 8am Atlantis time, on the button, John strode through the infirmary doors to be brusquely greeted by Ronon, who was leaning against the wall facing Rodney’s bed.

“How come you're allowed here before me?” John murmured quietly to his teammate.

Ronon nodded towards the slumbering, disheveled figure sleeping on the cot next to Rodney. “Doc’s only been out for a couple hours. McKay had a rough time last night.”

John blinked. _Damn it_. “What happened?”

“Nightmares,” Ronon grunted. His eyebrows were pulled together in clear worry, which was so far out of the norm for the former Runner that John’s anxiety cranked up a notch.

“Bad?”

“Yeah. Doc was worried he’d have seizures.”

John’s scant breakfast of toast and coffee dropped into his stomach like a lead weight. “Why didn’t anyone call me?”

“Doc’s orders,” was the softly grunted reply. “Said he’d turn me into a pincushion if I disturbed you.” Ronon quietly snorted, giving his opinion of the threat. “Figured you needed the rest more.”

John couldn’t help the snarl. “Dex…”

Ronon’s level chocolate-hued gaze speared him. “You’ve hardly slept since we got McKay back. You needed it. He needs you.”

“What the hell’s _that_ supposed to mean?!”

“Colonel.” Teyla appeared at John’s side. Damn, he hadn’t even noticed her coming into the infirmary.

“Teyla.” He nodded curtly at her. “You know about last night?”

She blinked. “No. What happened?” Her eyes turned towards Rodney’s bed, and widened when she noticed he was back on the oxygen mask.

“McKay had nightmares,” Ronon rumbled. “Bad.”

“Then I am glad you were here,” she dipped her head in respect.

“A call would’ve been nice,” John groused, interrupting the taller man’s response.

Teyla laid a gentle hand on his biceps. “You would have been unable to do anything,” she soothed. “And you needed the rest.”

“What, you too?” John couldn’t help his voice rising with his agitation. “Anything happens, I want to know, damn it!”

“You haven’t left his side since we returned from the planet,” Teyla spoke softly. “You were exhausted, and would have been little comfort to Rodney in your condition. He needs you, us… _all_ of his friends, to be well so we can assist him on his path to recovery.”

Ronon nodded in his usual silent support, and John relented.

Okay, so… not really. “Sounds like you’ve been here awhile,” he tossed back to Ronon nonchalantly.

The taller man shrugged. “Nah, got in half hour ago. Chapman told me what happened.” He nodded over to Carson’s second-in-command, who was making his way over to Rodney’s bed for a check-up.

Dr. Nigel Chapman crossed the ICU and acknowledged SGA-1 with a nod before checking his patient’s vitals. Once finished, he tugged the sheets further up towards Rodney’s chin before turning and making sure Carson was still resting comfortably on his cot. Then he moved to the entrance of the ICU and the three anxious people standing there.

“Morning, Colonel, Teyla, Ronon,” the doctor greeted them quietly.

“How’s the patient, doc?” John replied with a nod.

“Stable for the moment, and so far we’re cautiously optimistic regarding his progress. He had a very rough time of it last night, as I told Mr. Dex here,” he nodded pleasantly to Ronon, “and things got a bit dicey for a while, but we managed to stabilize Doctor McKay without any seizures.”

“Has he shown any improvement with his memory?” Teyla asked.

The doctor frowned. “Unfortunately not. He hasn’t said much, but his speech is still considerably impaired. We’re certain that will improve over time, but Doctor McKay’s in for a rough recovery. And, knowing his lack of patience…” Chapman winced slightly. 

“Yeah, Rodney’s never been very good at that, has he?” John weakly attempted to joke.

“Pot meet kettle, Colonel,” Chapman shot back with a small smile. “But in this case, if we can focus Doctor McKay on certain goals, his recuperation will only progress faster.”

“What, not a full recovery?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

The doctor’s mouth turned down at the edges. “Unfortunately not. It’s rare for anyone Dr. McKay’s age to get entirely back to their former selves after injuries this severe.” He ducked his head, gaze skittering away from John’s. “Sorry, Colonel. Wish I had better news.”

Teyla rested a gentle hand on John’s shoulder while Ronon straightened from his slouch. “McKay’s pulled off miracles before, Doc,” the Satedan replied shortly. “Bet he’ll surprise us all.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ETA: Now with soundtrack!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2GMcpbf8ZSQ38HbiP0FpWo

~oOo~

  
The next couple of days were fairly quiet in the infirmary, with Rodney sleeping around ninety-five percent of the time, and one of his friends always watching over him.

On the fourth night after Rodney had first woken from his coma, John was comfortably ensconced in one of the bedside chairs with his feet propped on another. He had his laptop playing Back To the Future with the sound almost muted, and one hand resting on Rodney’s bed near his knee.

A soft snuffle from the head of the bed had John’s head whipping up just in time to see Rodney’s forehead crease from his second nightmare of the evening. Very gently, John slipped his hand under Rodney’s, providing comfort without restraint, as he set aside his laptop and stood.

“Hey, McKay,” he murmured. “It’s all right, you’re safe in Atlantis, buddy.”

Rodney’s chest hitched before his breathing evened out. For some reason, John was the only person able to soothe his friend from the bad dreams that constantly assaulted him. John stood there for another minute to see if Rodney was going to wake up before he disentangled their hands and sat back down.

Memories of what had happened back on the planet had been running on a continuous loop in the back of John’s mind since he and his team had returned with their battered scientist. And tonight the worst of them rushed to the fore as he watched his best friend's shallow breathing.

_Listening to Elizabeth attempting to negotiate with Caltha’s father to maintain their fledgling treaty, while John paced and Ronon growled at anyone who looked at them. Carson repeatedly checking his emergency medical supplies, and Teyla mediating as best she could with the worry plain upon her face as well._

_That Healer, Florin, entering the Hall in the palace where these so-called “negotiations” had been taking place for the past three days, taking Carson and John aside to notify them where Rodney was being held, and that Rodney was being guarded by men loyal to only the princess._

_Looking at Ronon and Teyla and knowing, in that way warriors don’t need words for, that they’d support what he was about to do, and slipping away from the delegations to order Lorne and a small squad of Marines to grab extra ammo from the ‘Jumpers parked outside the palace._

_Tersely ordering the soldiers to use lethal force if necessary, and ignoring Lorne’s pointed look in Elizabeth’s direction._

_Knowing that what he was about to do would land him in the shithouse with Elizabeth, and not just because he was undermining her authority, but because she was Rodney’s friend too. But also knowing that time was of the essence here, and if he didn’t get to Rodney now then there’d be no reason to hurry… since Rodney would be dead._

John’s eyes stung as impotent fury again threatened to overwhelm him. He cast his gaze around the quiet infirmary, noting the one nurse talking quietly to the night duty doctor by the pharmacy closet. No one was looking his way, everyone familiar with John’s habit of keeping watch over injured teammates.

His attention was inexorably drawn back to his best friend’s sleeping form. Rodney lying so still was just so wrong on so many levels that John didn’t know where to start. Rodney’s head was tilted to the left, with a small spot of drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. The top of his head was completely shaved, with bandages surrounding the shunt sticking out of his skull. The horrible bruising encompassing Rodney’s face was finally starting to fade, and the bandages covering his broken ribs and other injuries peeked out over the top of the sheets that had slipped down over his torso some time earlier.

John leaned over and gently tugged the covers up to Rodney’s chin, knowing how much his friend hated being exposed to others. That thought triggered more of the despised memories, and John slumped back in his chair as they surged up again…

_Silently rushing down corridors and rarely used passageways to the heavily guarded room by the palace’s armory._

_Just as quietly ordering his men into position before giving the order to advance._

_Hearing Rodney’s agonized scream. Literally seeing red as he shot the first guard, hearing Ronon’s blaster discharging repeatedly along with the chatter of Lorne’s and the Marine’s weapons._

_Shoving his way into the room just as Rodney arched off the bed with another choked howl._

_Seeing…_ **that** _woman… half-naked and frantically milking Rodney’s obvious orgasm with long, bare legs wrapped around his waist, looking flushed and triumphant._

 _Noting the black-haired youth kneeling on the bed behind Caltha, with his hand up Rodney’s_ **ass**.

_Aiming the P-90 and taking two shots, watching with detached loathing as Caltha and the boy jerked and cried out in pain._

_Hearing the others entering the room as he stalked over to the bed, scruffed the princess' neck, and tossed her across the room like a rag doll._

_Feeling the bile choking the back of his throat as he saw the appalling condition his teammate was in: naked, bruised, bleeding, semi-conscious and just…_ **broken**.

The breath caught in John’s throat as the burning at the back of his eyes increased.

_Carson rushing to Rodney’s side while the Marines efficiently cleared the room, leaving only Lorne and Ronon guarding the door, looking almost shell-shocked._

_Releasing Rodney from the shackles (jesus they had him fucking shackled to the damn bed) and helping restrain the semi-conscious man while Carson quickly checked him over._

_Having to witness Rodney, the strongest willed and most stubborn man he’d ever known, sobbing like a child before vomiting blood so hard John’s pants were never going to recover._

_Hearing Lorne over his headset instructing the Marines to release Caltha and the kid to the king’s guards that were demanding they be handed over, but unable to countermand the order with Carson right there telling him they needed to return to Atlantis now._

_Getting Rodney transferred to the emergency stretcher and rushing back to the ‘Jumpers, sending Teyla to fetch Elizabeth and her Marine contingent from the now pointless negotiations._

_Ordering Markham to fly their ‘Jumper while he and Ronon settled the stretcher in the back with Carson working feverishly to inject various medications into the IV port hastily taped to the back of Rodney’s hand._

_And watching helplessly as Rodney violently seized all the way back to the ‘Gate._

God, they’d almost lost Rodney by the time they landed in the ‘Jumper Bay. Twice.

The rest of that day and the one following were all a blur to John as he’d alternated between sitting numbly in the infirmary’s waiting room and running circuits around the edges of Atlantis trying to escape the image of Rodney’s shattered body thrashing at the castle, or in the ‘Jumper… or lying so unnaturally pale and still in the infirmary bed.

Elizabeth had tried to talk to John, but Ronon or Teyla always interceded, telling her whatever they needed to so John had time to regain control over his badly frayed temper.

Five long days after they’d rescued Rodney, John was able to see Elizabeth without wanting to kill everything within arm’s reach. To say it wasn’t pleasant would’ve been the understatement of the year.

~oOo~

He raised a hand to knock on the frame of the open door, but Elizabeth’s head had already come up. Her sober gaze practically pinned his feet to the floor, and the two were still for long seconds.

“John, please. Come in,” Elizabeth finally said.

He could feel the slight grimace wash over his face at the beyond-weary sadness in her voice, but he strode over to the chair on the right side of her desk and sat down.

“Elizabeth.”

She continued to look at him for a moment before typing a few keys on her laptop and shoving it aside. “How is he?” she asked softly.

“The same.”

“Colonel.” Her face firmed, and he knew he was still on her shit list. “We have to talk about what happened on the planet.”

“What’s there to say, Elizabeth?” John retorted crisply. “That skank kidnapped Rodney, had him beaten within an inch of his life. And. Raped. Him. As far as I’m concerned, that’s an act of war.”

“You think I don’t agree with you?” she shot back with enough steel in her tone that John sat back in his seat. “Caltha started the kind of diplomatic incident that I’ve seen countries annihilate each other over!”

She paused and raised a hand, and they both took that moment to restrain their frayed tempers.

“John, I’m not saying that what you did to get Rodney back was unwarranted,” she continued, running a hand through her hair. “Just that I wish you would’ve told me what you were doing in advance.”

“Elizabeth, he was dying,” John replied heatedly. “When that Healer guy pulled Carson and I aside, he said that Rodney’s condition was getting worse by the minute. You really think you would’ve authorized the extraction in time for us to save him?”

She straightened in her seat, her expression growing cold and shuttered. “It doesn't matter anymore. What’s done is done, Colonel. Now I have to deal with the fallout, and that means negotiating with King Marus over what to do with Caltha and Baran.”

John’s face froze. “Easy. Give her to us. Once we make sure she isn’t pregnant, we give her a swift trial and space the bitch.”

“John,” Elizabeth reprimanded.

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t apologize.

She sighed heavily and rubbed at her face. “Marus assures me that Caltha and Baran are under house arrest with his own personal guards watching them. His Healer is monitoring the Princess’ health, and will notify us through the King if she shows signs of pregnancy.”

“What the hell does that mean?!”

She straightened in her chair and fixed him with a stern look. “It means that while Marus condemns Caltha’s actions, if a child results from this incident, they…”

“Elizabeth,” he growled. “If she gets pregnant, then we get Beckett there to perform an abortion.”

“Don’t you think we should consider Rodney’s wishes on this?” she shot back.

His back straightened until he was at painful attention in his seat. “He can’t even string one sentence together,” he grit out.

“Which is why we need to wait this out,” Elizabeth replied grimly. “There’s no need for us to rush into a decision. We have months to…”

“To what?” he interrupted, seething with fury. “Watch that woman think she’s won while letting a child develop? She’s just using a pregnancy like she used McKay, and I’ll be damned if…”

“Colonel Sheppard!” Elizabeth shot out of her chair and shouted him down. Both hands were braced on the desk now, her whitened knuckles showing the strength of her restraint. “That’s enough!”

John launched himself out of his chair and mirrored her pose. “God dammit Elizabeth, don’t you see what’s happening?!”

“Yes, yes I do!”

“Then what the hell are you gonna do about it?!”

“Everything I can!”

They glared at each other, chests heaving through the waves of impotent fury washing over them. Out of the corner of his eye, John could tell the entire Gate Room staff had stopped what they were doing and were watching the heated argument with wide eyes.

Suddenly, Elizabeth deflated in front of him. “John,” she sighed as she sank back down into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose with a grimace. “I want to see Caltha punished as much as you do.”

He leaned back from the desk, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. “Do you?”

Her eyes widened in hurt. “You think so little of me then?”

John blinked, taking in the stooped line of Elizabeth’s back and the dark circles under her eyes, and abruptly sat down in his chair again.

“When was the last time you slept, Elizabeth?” he asked softly.

The sudden bark of laughter was harsh coming from her mouth, and it startled John. “I could ask the same thing about you,” she replied with a wry grin.

“Right,” he nodded, wiping a shaking hand over his face. “Look, I'm going crazy sitting here doing nothing; not with Rodney lying in the infirmary like that.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I have another meeting with King Marus tomorrow. If I knew I could trust you to keep your temper…”

“Lorne’s gonna be there?” John realized that in being so focused on Rodney and everything that had happened on P3X-467, he’d left Lorne unofficially in charge of Atlantis without any direction.

That was going to change. Now.

Elizabeth nodded. “Of course. Marus is coming to the Alpha Site in a show of trust, and we plan on discussing Rodney’s condition as well as what to do with Caltha and Baran in the long run.”

“I’d still like to be there,” John spoke firmly.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, John,” Elizabeth replied wearily. “Do you really think you can keep some semblance of objectivity?”

Ouch, that hurt. “Probably not. Lorne it is. Just… keep me in the loop?”

She smiled sadly. “Of course, John. If you’ll keep me apprised of any changes on Rodney’s end?”

He took it as the olive branch it was, and quirked a tiny smile. “If Carson doesn’t tell you first.”

He left Elizabeth’s office and headed to his own. He had some responsibilities to look after before he could return to the infirmary.


End file.
